Gosh, Tuesdays can be traumatic, can't they? For a day after Monday, it ought to be the easiest day of the week to endure, yet sometimes it takes me until Tuesday night to wake up and see what is really going on.
With me, what is really going on is I am trying to make enough income to last through my social security eligibility in about 16 months or so. I am amused by friends who proudly proclaim how they plan to work until they are "at least 75," and I tell them that I feel I will be blessed if I am still around to gripe about Al Roker and the price of coffee at 75. My Mother died at 62, my oldest sister and baby brother at 45, and I just don't think I am slated for running any marathons in the next 40 years or so. I want to gently say goodbye to the work woes and take my soul on to the vistas that await my in my creative and spiritual life.
So what do I do? I applied for -- and was offered a job as lead bartender at Red Mile, an old racetrack that is being repurposed like no other entity in Kentucky has ever been transformed. 75,000 square feet of new 'casino-like' space is being added to the track; it will also be a sophisticated music venue by the end of it all. While I am excited for this new bustling business just off campus and a token's throw from Rupp Arena, I am also sorry I applied for a full time job, standing on my poor sixty-year-old feet. My boss says I have to work full time; the podiatrist says that is a no-no, and he took an MRI yesterday to find out why the old Rest Ice Compression Elevation is not relieving my heel spur pain.
Tomorrow, we will decide on what course to take and I will get the results of the half-hour imaging of my foot that took place yesterday. So tonight I am having a PBR and listening to my neighbor cough up a lung in the community room while eating ribs she just had delivered. Live entertainment! for at least another few minutes...
I am not nervous about the MRI results, but I am anxious about what will become of me in the next 18 months or so. I have worked for over 45 years now, so I deserve my itty bitty retirement when it comes. Apparently, all of my exes are now millionaires and are either married or in love -- but they somehow still SAY they love me. Most of them do, anyway. Oy to the veh. Lest you think I seek out this information, or that I call em up and ask them, please know they have 'found' me lately for some reason, and seems every day someone tells me about Tommy or Tim or Kevin or Bunxgeorge and how they are rolling in the dough now and happily living with 'her.'
Yeah, if you are my Friend, don't tell me any of that shite, okay? I do not really want to hear it. I truly do not.
On a lighter note --- my good ol' friend Billy lives in Gulf Shores, and says I can visit anytime I like. He lives 2 miles from the beach and golly, the sun sure is setting a lot sooner these days, eh? I guess after I find out what the doctor says tomorrow, I will decide how soon I can join Billy on the shores and quite possibly watch the sun set on the ocean for the rest of my old lady days. I will have to work and save and work and save, but I am setting my goals and taking action to make my life better. It's the American way, ya know. lol
Another note of gratitude -- it's been great seeing sister Kelli again lately, and writing for Ace and here in Kimmyville, where the weather is always a little cloudy but my smile is ever sunny. I always cry when I write, and crying seems to cleanse the soul, as it is said.
love to all of you and thanks for reading all this.
pray for peace,